


Just say it instead

by Sylvalum



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:18:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvalum/pseuds/Sylvalum
Summary: Someone left a note at Lucy's place at the table.'Happy Valentine's Day'-or something. It's barely readable...





	Just say it instead

**Author's Note:**

> I love the books, the characters, everything, so of course I had to write something - so I just went with Valentine's Day.

Lucy was still half-asleep when she spotted it. The message. So it didn’t really properly register in her brain until she had already put her plate over it, so now she moved the plate aside again, glaring down at the message with wisps of bed-hair falling in her eyes.

…And then she blinked, rubbed at her eyes, and frowned when the message still didn’t disappear. Someone – she suspected a certain person, _but_ – had written a message at her place, with abysmally small letters and many scratched-out attempts and ink-blotches scattered over the tablecloth.

And that message was almost unreadable, saying, _I was planning to ------ I think -------- *blotch of ink* Happy Valentine’s Day Lucy!_

-with no name to it.

Thanks so much. Truly.

She decided her stomach had to go first though, and so she covered the message with her plate again. Lockwood – in all his I-do-not-have-bed-hair-like-a-mere-mortal glory – entered the kitchen with a smile that could melt anything, and announced that they had more work for tonight. Interesting work. Lucy nodded and asked and memorised and was interested, but really she just wanted to sweep away her plate, point at the text and ask, “Was it you?!” (Or – could you translate this into Readable?)

She didn’t.

Lockwood sat down, and George ambled in, and they all ate and bickered like usual. Lockwood looked at his newspapers, George ate his breakfast, and Lucy did a bit of both. Ate her breakfast, looked at Lockwood, looked at the newspaper – and it really was February the 14th.

“So it’s Valentine’s day today, apparently.”

“What an ‘amazing’ observation. But what about it?” George asked.

“Nothing,” Lucy said. She looked at Lockwood pointedly, who didn’t notice a thing. “Just a holiday.” Lockwood turned a page. “Just an annual holiday which people celebrate...” He just continued reading. “-celebrate on the 14th of February-“

“Okay; we get it,” George interrupted. “I’m off to the Archives, bye.”

“Bye,” said Lucy, and Lockwood said nothing, so maybe he really was _that_ engrossed in his reading. Maybe Lucy should just eat her breakfast already and get on with her day – she could ponder today’s date and Lockwood’s handwriting later. 

**-X-**

Hours later, having worked hard and long to pry open the living room floor of their client, all three of them felt seriously exhausted. The Source – a partially-burned notebook – was stuffed in one of their bags filled with iron, and the three of them were all seated around the kitchen table again, waiting for the client to show up after having spent the night somewhere else, so that they could get paid and go home.

Lucy was eating sweets from a Valentine’s Day themed bag, and so was George. Lockwood, not quite as enthusiastic after hours of demolishing, was also eating sweets. Really interesting. And then Lucy glanced down at the tablecloth, and remembered yesterday’s morning. 

“So,” she began. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

George nodded a bit, and Lockwood just glanced at her.

Okay. Question time.

“Now, who of you have the worse handwriting?”

George raised an eyebrow, and Lockwood gave her a puzzled look, and then George said, “Lockwood. It’s barely legible.”

“It’s perfectly legible, compared to your notes.”

“My notes look just fine compared to your scrawl-“

“Okay,” Lucy interrupted. “I’ll rephrase my question; who left a note at my chair yesterday morning?”

“Do you mean the one about the laundry? That was from Holly,” said George. And Lockwood said nothing-

“No, the one about Valentine’s Day.” Lucy said, and glanced at Lockwood. He, very slowly, took a candy and started chewing on it. Slowly.

“...It wasn’t me,” said George, then.

“I didn’t think it was,” replied Lucy.

They both watched Lockwood, who had no choice than to at last swallow his candy. And reply, of course. “…Okay, it was me.”

 _I knew it-_ okay, more like hoped, really. “Okay,” said Lucy. “So, what did it… mean?” The illegible writing, with scrawled out attempts. The fact that he bothered so much with the phrasing or whatever it was that he had to rewrite it multiple times.

“…I wished you happy Valentine’s Day?” says Lockwood, uncertainly. Lucy looks at him. He’s staring back. He’s got soot or something smeared over his left eye, and of course he’s making it look like it was intentionally smeared exactly there.

George clears his throat, and announces, “The client’s back!” Lucy quickly stands up, Lockwood turning to face the door with George already moving towards it. So, after the door opens they have approximately fifteen seconds before the client sees the gaping hole in the floor-

**-X-**

It’s on their porch, seeing the cab drive away around the corner, when Lockwood finally elaborates. On what he meant by his message, that is. They’re hauling their bags inside the house, and George has just taken two of them and is dragging them inside, when Lockwood puts a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. She turns around, which is kind of obvious, and quirks an eyebrow at Lockwood. 

“So, the note, um…” He begins, and Lucy waits expectantly, still clutching one of the bags. “…would you mind terribly if I asked you out?” he blurts it out – or she thinks this is what is must sound like, Lockwood exclaiming things hastily – and then she realises that _this_ must be why there were so many scratched out attempts-

“Uh, yes? I – I mean, no?” She stares at Lockwood, who stares back. “…Are you going to ask me out?”

“If you’d like to? Yes?”

She stares some more. He looks terribly uncertain. In a stylish way. _Okay, Lucy_ \- she pats his arm a bit awkwardly, and says, “Yes – yes, I like you too, um…”

“That’s… good. Fantastic.” Lockwood smiles. She smiles back. He smiles wider, and she smiles more honestly. Someday – likely as soon as she’s slept and her eyelids doesn’t feel like they’re fighting to fall shut anymore – then she will process this discussion, and proceed to freak out and grin at the wall. 

Right now she just wants to sleep.

“Okay, wow,” she says. “Now can we go inside-?”

“Absolutely!” says Lockwood enthusiastically, and takes the two remaining bags and marches inside, Lucy smiling at his back as she drags her own luggage inside. Today – even counting the hours of removing heavily lodged planks – has been a very, very good day so far.


End file.
